


"Sleek"

by VividSunsets



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Nonbinary Character, SLIGHTLY ooc Sixth Brother so he can hold a conversation at all, mutual love of fast ships, mutually getting their ass kicked by ahsoka at different points that week, nb/m
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:34:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26472700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VividSunsets/pseuds/VividSunsets
Summary: It's 18BBY, and while Sixth Brother is on his way back to Raada, a certain Black Sun agent with wounded pride is getting away from the Thabeska System. They stop in the same cantina on the way.
Relationships: Sixth Brother (Star Wars)/Unidentified Black Sun Agent
Comments: 5
Kudos: 5





	"Sleek"

While there weren’t many benefits to podunk backwater-of-the-galaxy missions (aside from escaping Ninth Sister, currently hellbent on revenge), one of the few is that Sixth Brother could get a meal and a few drinks at half the price that he could anywhere decent in the core. He’d happened upon this cantina at random, but the drinks were good and cheap, the food was better than average, and the crowd was varied enough so he didn’t look suspicious. 

At the present, he tried to find the owner of the sleek little ship parked one spot diagonally from his TIE. 

Sixth Brother was not oriented toward the finer points of espionage and observation, but most of the ships in that lot were as downtrodden, bland, and shoddy as the denizens of this cantina. With a ship like that, unless the owner was in disguise, they’d have the style to match, and while Sixth Brother wasn’t a social man, he enjoyed a good conversation about ship specs (he was thinking about making some modifications to his own TIE after killing Tano, if Vader didn’t have his head for it). 

Closing his eyes, he inhaled and searched the cantina with the Force.

Immediately, the sensation overwhelmed him. Many people drinking to forget; two friends, long separated, reuniting with feelings of warmth and an undertone of bitterness; the beginnings of a bar brawl brewing among three people in the corner, arguing about debt and marriage; and one person, nursing a drink with a twinge of regret, but filled with a surprising sense of purpose. 

He opened his eyes again and his head emptied, as he looked at the person sitting in the back corner, nursing a Bad Motivator. They wore dark armor, shining an iridescent purple in the light, and had a Black Sun symbol on their shoulder. He couldn’t tell their species by looking at them, but he could relate, so he didn’t dwell on the thought.

Shrugging and knocking back the rest of his drink, he walked over to their table. The figure tensed and readjusted almost instantly, but he didn’t miss their hand creeping toward their blaster. He grinned, relishing in the effect.

“I see you also know the benefits of a fast ship,” he said, as affably as he could manage, which, as he’d been reminded by the others who’d had that act to a tee, not very. 

“What’s it to you?” they hissed, glancing up at his shoulder.

“Nothing at all,” he said. “I just like someone who can admire a good ship and talk specs. Yours is a league above the rest of the junk in the lot.”

The Black Sun agent assessed him for a moment, then leaned over to look out the window and turned back to him.

“Fancy TIE, haven’t seen one like it,” they said.

Sixth Brother bit back a question wondering how many other TIEs they’d seen, realizing that would end their conversation before it began.

“It’s unique,” he confirmed, “better hyperspace capabilities, more room in the cockpit, stronger shields and a somewhat faster engine. I’m also at the controls.”

They snorted in response, rolling their eyes and gesturing to the chair. The hand on the blaster didn’t leave its position.

“Sit down, hotshot, I could outfly you in my sleep.”

“Piloting doesn’t look like your day job,” Sixth Brother commented dryly, sitting down nonetheless.

“Doesn’t look like yours either,” the agent shot back, regarding him and his armor. 

“Despite the fact that neither of us are pilots, I see you also appreciate a twin engine. Clearly the best kind of model.”

“Twin engines _are_ superior, but I never said I wasn’t a pilot, it’s just not the main component of the job,” the agent said, some warmth creeping into their voice. The arm resting on the blaster relaxed.

“What is it, then?,” Sixth Brother asked, sitting back and running his finger over the rim of his glass.

The Black Sun agent opened up to him a little at that point, giving vague details about vague missions in what he knew to be space that was so far-flung out of the Empire’s territory that any good Imperial wouldn’t care. Mostly, however, they seasoned it with details about dogfights with pirates; enemies so close on their tail that they could almost feel the thrum of the others’ ship in their own; some missions they’d taken during the clone war, taking care to not specify which side, save if it were neutral space, notably mentioning their work for Mandalore as a proud point.

“I beat a Mando in a fistfight,” they said, grinning. “He stood clear over me, not as tall as you, but ah, probably just under two meters. Slow as a barge though, and he wasn’t good with his fists. I knocked him down so fast that his fellow Death Watch soldiers laughed him clear out of the room.”

Sixth Brother allowed himself a smile—while he was sure he could take them in a fight (or frankly, an arm wrestling competition), they seemed capable, and were a good storyteller. The year with the inquisitors gave him an appreciation for company that didn’t want to murder him.

Or company he didn’t want to murder.

“I’ve been in a few fights in my day,” he said, careful to not let too much slip.

They snorted.

“That much is obvious, you’re Imperial, but what kind of fights do you get into? I’m not the one who can arrest or kill you for it, and I haven’t met any Imperials wearing your kind of armor.”

Sixth Brother bristled.

“And you don’t walk like them, don’t talk like them, so you’re some kind of special ops,” they said, the grin on their face getting wider, but then faltering.

“So maybe it’s best that I don’t ask, but I bet you’ve gotten yourself into a lot of fights. Tell me, are you looking for a target?”

“Not in here,” Sixth Brother said, hoping that they would steer away from this end of the conversation. 

“I get it, if you’re hunting all the time, you burn yourself out—and sometimes, even if you wait for the right moment, you get burned.”

“It sounds like there’s a story behind that,” Sixth Brother snorted.

“One that stings too much to share right now,” they said, rolling their eyes, and he could tell that tone didn’t encourage prodding.

Sixth followed them to the bar to get a drink, and they took charge, ordering two Nal Hutta Swamps.

“They don’t short you on the booze as much for that, and you strike me as the type that likes bitter drinks,” the bounty hunter explained.

They had pegged him correctly, so Sixth Brother decided that delaying his search for Tano by another night wouldn’t harm the mission.

**Author's Note:**

> I really saw EKJ use the same descriptor two times for two of the antagonists, and I promptly decided they should meet at a cantina, alright!
> 
> Also, I think this is the first work in the Black Sun agent's tag?


End file.
